


Business as Usual

by EPS (Lillian_Shepherd)



Series: The Grand Tour [2]
Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/EPS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps being alone with Actor in a hotel bedroom in Lisbon wasn't the best idea Garrison had ever had...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business as Usual

_Lisbon 1943_

 

The porter heaved the heavy bags into Room 24, following the slender figure of _Senhor_ – no, Mister – Charles Redmond who had arrived with that wonderful car, plus his surly-looking servant only a few minutes before. Even before Mister Redmond had finished registering, every member of staff knew the details. Mister Redmond was an _inglês aristocrata_ with lots and lots of money, who was in Lisbon for the gambling and the women and the night life. The porter envied him all of those, but he was grateful that there might be a chance to acquire a little of that wealth for himself. So he carried the bags in with good grace, and placed them where Mister Redmond indicated with a wave of his long cigarette holder. All the while the _inglês_ kept up a running commentary of which the porter understood not a single word, but he had heard similar accents often enough to anticipate a heavy tip, and the notes pressed into his hand were indeed sufficient – not as much as if the man had been _american_ rather than _britânico_ , but he didn't mind: he preferred real aristocracy.

"Yes, very nice indeed," _Senhor_ Redmond was saying, brushing away the porter's thanks and offers of further help. "Thank you very much."

Somehow, the porter was outside the door, but he knew there would be further tips from Mister Redmond.

As soon as the door was closed behind the porter, Redmond flung his camel coat on the bed, himself into a chair and reached for the telephone. "Ah, hello, yes. Room Service?" he drawled. "Yes, this is Mr Redmond in Room 24. I wonder if you would be kind enough to send up a bottle of your best Champagne. Yes, that year, if you could possibly—" He stopped as a hand closed on his wrist.

Its owner said, "You're going out, remember?" A tall, powerful, man, he was backed by a broad hard-case with a scowl that could curdle milk, and an elegant man even taller than he was, who also wore a disapproving expression on his handsome face. 

Redmond grinned at them. "Hello, Room Service. Yes, cancel the order. I've just decided to go out." As he put the phone down, he snapped the fingers of his free hand, and said, in sharp tones that owed far more to London's East End than to any Public School, "I always wanted to try that."

Lieutenant Craig Garrison didn't doubt it. Goniff always had had a taste for the good life, particularly if it included free booze, and he had already made it clear how much he enjoyed playing the aristocrat, particularly when it meant he could Lord it over the other team members. It wouldn't pay to encourage him, or even to laugh, much as he wanted to. "Alright, now, com'on, get into your monkey suit," he ordered, keeping his face as straight as possible. "Actor, you got the list?"

The tall conman handed it over with obvious reluctance. "Some of the chicest night-spots in Lisbon. I can recommend them personally."

Garrison didn't doubt that either; Actor's taste for wine, women and song was even more notorious than Goniff's. "Good, good," he said absently, heading across the room to where Goniff, supervised by a still-scowling Casino, was unpacking a suitcase. "Here," he said, passing on the list, "Casino knows where they are. He'll be your chauffeur."

"Hmm, very good." Goniff was still being Redmond. Then he grinned and dropped the accent. "Hey, what about you two. Aren't you comin' along?"

This could be tricky, Garrison knew. Goniff liked to have someone around to turn to when the going got tough – and the going could get very tough over the next few days. "No, we stay. We're... er... sedate English businessmen." A little twist of accent made a joke of it, with a grin to confirm it. "We don't belong in your league."

"Oh, pity." Goniff was unconcerned, being more interested in measuring his suit jacket against his chest. "Hey, you know something, it's too bad Chiefy ain't here. This is goin' t'be fun."

This was the final provocation for Casino, who had been smouldering for hours. "Are you kiddin'? If he ever saw you in this outfit he'd bust his bullet wound an' die laughin'."

It was an uncomfortable reminder that the team was incomplete, that none of them would have Chief's powers of observation and phenomenal reflexes to keep their backs safe. Garrison covered it by offering a wad of money to Goniff.

Who was suddenly Redmond again. "Here, hold this a second, Joseph," he said, handing the jacket to Casino. He took the offered cash, riffled it through to count it, and put it in his wallet which he stowed in an inside pocket. Until he spent it, it was probably as safe as the hotel strong box, given his talents.

"Now stay on your toes," Garrison instructed. "They may try to contact you tonight."

"Male or female?" Goniff asked, plainly hoping it might be the latter. No doubt he had fantasies about being the target of beautiful German spies.

Garrison hoped they'd stay fantasies, but knew better than to burst Goniff's bubble of wishful-thinking. "That's up to them."

Actor was looking wistful. "Maybe I ought to go along just in case."

Garrison's "No, no, no," was instinctive, but he had to give a rational explanation. "The Germans would spot a tail in a minute. They're not fools."

Goniff hadn't been listening. "I say, old chap," he was saying to Casino, "would you mind helping me dress. This way."

Casino looked as if he'd rather murder him, but Garrison signaled to him to comply. He needed to keep Goniff in this buoyant mood. If he started thinking about the difficulty of what he was about to do, he would make mistakes.

"Ah, what a waste. All that good music, beautiful girls, for a clod who can't even knot his tie," Actor sighed, giving Garrison another sideways look from under long eyelashes.

Garrison ignored it. All Actor wanted to do was drink, gamble and chase women... and he was damned if he was going to give him yet another opportunity for that. Though, fuck it, Actor ought to chase women – maybe even catch a few...

It was just that he hated it when he did. There was so much ambivalence in their relationship nowadays. At first he had been relieved when Actor stopped touching him so often... then he had been angry, as he was angry about the women and...

These things shouldn't bother him. Rather, he should be uneasy when alone with him, afraid that Actor might lose control and make a move towards him, afraid that he would have to reject him firmly enough to shatter their working relationship and perhaps their friendship...

It could hardly be friendship. He was Actor's commanding officer – and Actor desired him.

Only Actor didn't know he knew, had only consciously admitted to that long-ago relationship with Gardelli. As far as Garrison could tell, he had no memory of those last few hours travelling to find the others when, draped across the back of a recalcitrant mule, he had been alternately unconscious and delirious.

It was an experience that occasionally resurfaced in his own nightmares. He hadn't really believed that either of them would end the day alive, but Actor was tough, far tougher than he liked to appear.

And more vulnerable. Well, at least in his dreams.

It was Goniff he ought to be worrying about. The cat-burglar was also a superb mimic, but he tended to drink heavily, and this was a risky caper.

Garrison knew he worried too much, had become too emotionally involved— Too emotionally attached to his bunch of convicts? He had been furious when Major Richards had accused him of that, back when they had been part of that nearly disastrous operation to bring General Kaltenbrunner out of Italy, but even then it had been too cold a description for what he felt. 

Damn it, he liked Goniff, just as he liked all of his motley team, however much trouble they caused him. More to the point, they trusted him, even Casino. Chief and Goniff perhaps trusted him too much.

As for Actor...

What Actor had felt about him... maybe still felt about him... was simple compared with the complexity of what he felt about Actor. Sometimes he dreamed about that road high in the Italian mountains, where Vincente Gardelli had drugged him and would have raped him if Actor hadn't almost thrown his life away in an attempt to save him.

Only sometimes in his dreams it wasn't Gardelli who spread-eagled him against that car but Actor, and then it was that he would wake abruptly, sweating and aroused, in bitter disappointment because he always lost the dream far too soon.

"Hey, Warden, what d'you think?"

Thankfully, Garrison abandoned his unproductive thoughts and surveyed Goniff, now in black tie, white ruffled shirt and black dinner jacket, and looking astonishingly at home in them, a picture of restrained elegance, accompanied by Casino, in the chauffeur's uniform that made look somehow like a tough New York cop – a comparison the safecracker would not have appreciated. "You both look great," Garrison told them. "Now just keep on the way you have been and you'll do just fine. Don't go looking for any trouble..." 

"Not even just a little bit of trouble? Blonde, brunette or redhead... I just can't decide. Maybe all three..." Goniff mused as Casino bustled him out of the door to Garrison's and Actor's chorused good wishes.

Garrison crossed to the window and looked out. A few minutes later, in the street below, he saw Goniff get into the rear of the car and Casino take the wheel.

If only they had the sense to stay with the script. And stay away from the booze, and...

Deliberately, Garrison turned from the window to smile at Actor. "It may be a long night," he said.

Actor grinned back at him. "Certainly, if Goniff has anything to do with it. Why don't you get some rest?"

Garrison shook his head. "We need to be ready if something breaks."

"Ah, so all that confidence was bluff. Don't let Goniff see it. He can handle it, Warden, so long as he believes that you believe he can. And Casino will watch his back."

"They're a dangerous combination. I wish Chief wasn't laid up."

Actor shrugged. There was something in the gesture that alerted Garrison. "Something wrong between you and Chief?"

"There has never been anything between me and Chief except a certain amount of suspicion. Nothing I can't handle."

"It's not your job to handle it, but mine," Garrison pointed out. "All our lives depend on us working smoothly together. You know better than to get on the wrong side of Chief's temper..."

"Of course. And I have always admired the way you handle Chief."

"And the way I handle you?" Garrison murmured, raising his eyebrows. He watched Actor swallow his instinctive reply – no doubt on the lines of "I should be so lucky" – with real amusement.

Not fair to tease him like this, really, but Actor was deliberately trying to divert him.

Deciding not to touch the line with the proverbial barge pole, Actor said: "Dealing with hero-worship is never easy."

"None of you are easy," Garrison said, in heartfelt tones. "At least Chief generally does what I tell him."

Actor laughed. "So does Goniff. All too literally, sometimes."

"Actor, stop dodging the issue. What's your problem with Chief?"

"Lieutenant, really, it's matter of me beating him at cards. He still thinks I cheated."

"You don't need to cheat to beat Chief – if it had been Casino I'd've believed you... Why is it you don't want to—?" Garrison stopped as his mind made an intuitive leap. "This concerns me, doesn't it?"

Actor laughed. "No, of course not." 

"If you go on lying to me, I can always ask him."

"Then go ahead," Actor replied, with apparent indifference, "but we will continue to 'work smoothly together'. If nothing else, we have the same priorities."

Which was code for "he'll lie too." And what priorities did Actor mean? Staying alive? Goniff believed he wouldn't... and, after all, his own priorities had to be... questionable. It was all too complicated for a long winter night, Garrison thought, closing his eyes and absently rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. He was starting to get a headache. "Maybe Goniff's right at that," he said. "I nearly got Chief killed, Actor... and you."

He felt Actor's hand squeeze his shoulder. When the other man spoke, his voice sounded very close. "Neither Chief nor I expect to be looked after, Warden. Personally, I would prefer it if you took more care not to get yourself killed."

Garrison lifted his head to look into brown eyes that held more than a hint of anxiety. He said: "Don't worry about me."

"You're worrying about us."

"That comes with the territory."

Astonishingly, Actor chuckled. "Warden, Warden, we aren't teenage GIs from Iowa expecting officers to take care of us the way our mothers did. All of us have had to rely on our own wits. You've taught us to rely on each other – and on you – but that doesn't mean we don't think for ourselves, make our own judgements and choices. And it cuts both ways. We expect you to rely on us. I expect you to rely on me."

This conversation was becoming either too intense or too absurd and Garrison wasn't sure which. "You think I don't?" he asked.

"I think you take your responsibilities a little too seriously." He smiled. "As you've said yourself, nobody's perfect, so let me give you some support, huh? I make a great buttress."

Garrison laughed, and leaned his forehead against Actor's shoulder. He'd meant it as a joking riposte, but he found himself unwilling to move, drawing strength from other man that he hadn't known he needed. He felt Actor jump slightly, then the arms closed round his back.

He'd dreamed of this, and it felt even better than he'd imagined, but it must be torture for Actor, who, he knew, wanted him and perhaps even loved him...

Don't even think that...

Because of his own weakness. And because Actor offered.

With a sigh of regret, he pulled away slightly. Actor eased his grip to allow him to do so, but did not let go. He was looking at him with a totally unguarded expression, the first Garrison had ever seen from the conman, containing an extraordinary mix of emotions, of which desire was not the least, to judge by his flushed skin and parted lips.

Damn.

He'd never received anything but support from Actor, even at the very beginning. And loyalty, understanding, affection...

Actor had led the team to the heart of Germany, had put their freedom on the line to overthrow that Court Martial verdict, had killed Vincente Gardelli to save him from rape, had nearly been killed himself, still wasn't one hundred percent fit...

Why had that – and Actor's admission that he had been Gardelli's lover – made such a difference? And how much could he owe this man without making some kind of repayment?

Those lips were such a temptation.

What would it be like to kiss another man – no, not just any man – to kiss Actor? Even the thought could send ripples of desire through his body. The touch of his hands, in simple comfort, had set him alight.

And it would be quite safe. Actor wouldn't reject him, or betray him but—

I'll have to make the first move. He won't, not after what I said to him at Gardelli's villa.

He'd never quite gotten used to having to look up into Actor's face. Having to turn his own up to kiss him felt damn strange, too.

It was like the first time he'd made a real parachute jump, all the practice not preparing him for the fear, and the courage he needed to take that final reckless step into space, like it too in the exhilaration of having made the decision, of falling free into the unknown as he pressed his mouth to lips already parted for him.

Actor's arms tightened about him, and the tip of his tongue teased along his lips, easing between them; an acceptable penetration, shockingly intimate from another man – but intensely exciting. He had never been kissed like this, trapped by Actor's mouth, by the sheer pleasure of kissing him, by the urgent demands from his body for closer contact.

Actor's hand pressed gently down into his groin, and everything blurred in a wave of lust that threatened to sweep away his last bastions of reason.

It was Actor who broke the kiss, eased him back so he could look into his face. His own expression was dazed. "I'm not sure if this can be real but, on the small chance that it is, then I'm not interested in a quick grope. Goniff and Casino won't be back for hours. Even if they did turn up early, the doors to this room are locked. We can do exactly what we please – and it would please me very much to make love to you."

Garrison found himself shivering. "I don't know... what I want."

Actor chuckled, "Your body knows," he said, and kissed him again. 

This time Garrison pushed him back, suddenly aware that he had lost the initiative. "Actor... Leonzio... I... This isn't... Let me think."

Actor said, with great gentleness, "Sex can be about a lot of things – about power, or pleasure, or possession. Or it can just be about getting as close to someone as possible, for a little time." 

Trust Actor to know how to get under his skin. He needed so much to be close to someone. Then there was the argument the other man hadn't used, that one or both of them could be dead tomorrow...

Actor had been watching his face. "I knew it was too good to be true," he said wryly.

I've hurt him enough already.

Deliberately, Garrison smiled. "Don't jump to conclusions. I'm a novice at this. Think you can remember what to do, after all these years... and all those women?"

The blazing relief in Actor's eyes made all the risks worthwhile. "Oh yes," he said, and his next words were muffled against Garrison's mouth. "Oh yes, love."

 

He was no longer sure anymore whether it was the war that was unreal, a faint dream that would soon fade, or whether it was this Portuguese hotel room, and the memory of Actor's long body sliding over his in passion-held-to-gentleness – for him, because Actor didn't want to scare him. It had not been so much frightening as strange, his every sense alive to the touch of the other man's skin, the tickle of body hair, the heat of his sex, the warm scent of his body mixed with tobacco and a faint whiff of cologne. He hadn't known how long it had lasted, only that he had hung on the edge for an eternity, yet it had been over far too soon.

He had challenged Actor, and the other man had shown him an expertise that came not just from his time with Vincente, but from his years of accumulating women as easily Goniff appropriated wallets. Right now, Garrison would have hated all of them if he had not been so contented.

Lying cradled in Actor's arms, he knew that his lover had lied to him; this hadn't just been about getting close to someone, but about the other things he had mentioned – pleasure and possession, and perhaps even power.

Power over him that he had willingly placed in Actor's hands.

Damn.

If Actor could do this to him with just his hands and mouth what...? 

What if he tries to bugger me?

The thought sent a jolt of fear and – sickeningly – desire through him. A few minutes ago he'd wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Actor's body, to own him.

Did Actor fear that, too?

What else had he done with Vincente Gardelli, anyway?

Actor suddenly moved the hand that had been caressing Garrison's hip, drew the covers up to their chins, hugged him close and said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We're not going to do anything you don't want to do."

"It's what we've done already that worries me. I didn't expect... I've never been to bed with another man before..." Not many women, either, but he wasn't going to admit that to Actor. "The Army doesn't exactly encourage it."

"It's not exactly encouraged anywhere, Warden. Of course it's a risk, not one I'd take for anyone but you."

"You took it for Gardelli." He regretted the words the instant he felt Actor flinch.

"Vincente was... a long time ago," the conman said slowly. "We were both very young—"

"He was about my age."

"I suppose so, but those were different times. He was much older than you in some ways, certainly in the sinful ways of the world, but nowhere near as wise – or as exasperating."

He's trying to make me laugh, Garrison thought, divert me away from this because it's dangerous to him. Maybe I'm probing too deep but – I have to know... 

"He fucked you, didn't he?"

Garrison didn't know what response he expected, but it certainly wasn't for Actor's face to split in a delighted grin. "So that's what this is about! You're jealous of Vincente!"

"No..." Garrison started to pull away, but Actor trapped him in the rumpled bedclothes and kissed him fiercely.

"You want me? Want to bugger me?" He gave Garrison a little shake, as if he was a recalcitrant child. "Well, do you?"

Garrison was trembling, knew Actor could feel it, and knew that his voice would shake too. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and found, to his dismay, that he could not look up into Actor's face. "Yes. But... I... you don't—"

"Then I'd better find something we can use as a lubricant or you'll hurt me and hurt yourself." Actor bounced out of bed and opened the medical kit. "Vincente liked pain," he said suddenly, lifting his head to look directly into Garrison's eyes, "particularly causing it. I don't. It's one of the reasons I thought I preferred women, until you came along." The expression of adoration on his face sent a shiver of fear through Garrison, sobering his mind even as his balls tightened and his cock jerked up in pure lust.

He watched the other man cross back to the bed with half his thoughts warning him that things had already gone too far, and the other half admiring the play of muscles in the long legs, flat stomach and neat ass. There was nothing about Actor that wasn't elegant, perfectly in proportion, totally desirable.

"Actor..." he said helplessly, as the other man pulled away the covers, exposing not only his naked body, but his state of arousal. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea—"

The big hands slid over his chest, pausing to tease his nipples to hardness. "It's the best idea you've ever had, love. Just relax and let me show you why."

 

The bed was comfortable, warm with Actor's sleeping presence. By lifting himself a little, Garrison could look into his face, envious of its contentment.

The watch on his wrist told him it wasn't yet one o'clock, but it felt like a whole lifetime had passed since they had been left alone in this room. It was an hour that encouraged regrets.

He hadn't meant it to go this far, hadn't realised that it was so easy to lose control to a lover as skilled as Actor.

Yeah. Blame him. He didn't make the first move, didn't think he could try a little experiment and come out of it with his heart intact.

Well, if it was his fault, it was up to him to set things right, to stop the mission – and the team – being endangered further.

It would be hard. He'd thought that possessing Actor might redress the balance, take back the power he had given to the other man. What he hadn't expected was Actor to come with a cry of ecstasy the moment he entered him, hadn't expected his own reason to be overwhelmed by passion, for those few moments of union to shift the centre of his life...

Face it, no woman's made you feel like this. Perhaps no woman could.

What was it about this man that attracted him so much? He was good looking, but no Adonis, a thief and conman, with the sexual morals of a tomcat...

And they worked together in a harmony that could be almost as exciting as sex, supported each other through the worst as well as the best of times.

_I make a great buttress._

He'd never been able to lean on anyone the way he could lean on Actor, could rely on him utterly, and, dear God, that mattered more than anything he could think of...

I could lose all that in the next few minutes.

Then Actor's eyes opened and his mouth curled in a smile of pure joy. He lifted a hand, rested it against Garrison's cheek, and said, very simply, "Craig."

Hearing his name on Actor's lips was another reminder of the danger in which his weakness had placed them. "Actor," he said, deliberately, "you're still under my command."

He felt the other man's start of surprise, saw what he hoped wasn't fear in the dark eyes. "Damn right, Lieutenant, sir... Under and at your command."

He mustn't laugh. That was the greatest danger, the ease with which Actor could make him laugh, encouraged him to forget how serious the war was and share his amusement at the whole damn silly... filthy... business.

"I didn't intend it to happen this way."

"Oh? How did you 'intend' it to happen?"

Actor was good at reading the meaning under the surface of his words but this time he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion, maybe because that hadn't been what he'd meant to say, made it sound premeditated when it hadn't been.

Oh, and who arranged to be alone with Actor in a hotel bedroom, eh?

But I didn't mean to... Or did I?

Even he didn't know the answer to that.

Okay, let it ride. Use it. Truth wasn't as important as salvage right now. All he could do for Actor was try to limit the hurt.

"Not until after the war is over... We can't have an affair now, Actor. If we were found out, it would mean jail for you and a dishonourable discharge at the very best for me."

But Actor was a gambler, enjoyed living on the edge. What he said was, "Warden, there might not be 'an after the war is over' for us."

Garrison flinched. "I know... that's why ... if one of us had died and I hadn't..."

"Hadn't what?" Actor's voice was still gentle, his face showing no more than polite interest. 

"Let you know I wanted you, that I knew you wanted me. That we didn't die wondering... "

He recognised the change in Actor's expression as growing anger, just as the conman decided to finish the sentence for him. "What it would be like?" he said, with icy politeness. "And now you've found out you don't care enough to risk your career, right?"

Garrison hadn't really thought about it. There had been so much else to consider. He gave the simplest of his reasons: "I won't see you back in jail."

"Oh, so sensible." Actor turned away for a moment. When he faced Garrison again he was smiling with the patent falseness the other man hadn't seen since the day they first met. "Right. After the war. Maybe. If we both still care enough to try. And you can break free of the Army for a few hours. And I can dodge my parole officer. If we're even on the same continent – but don't expect me to nurse a broken heart for you until then, Warden. Meanwhile, business as usual." Briskly, he wriggled from under Garrison's body and out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

"Fair enough," Garrison said, to his back, but there was no satisfaction in having won the argument and no pleasure at all in looking forward to months, even years, of a war that was suddenly very real again.

 

Once dressed, his automatic snugly in its holster against his shoulder, Garrison could begin to rebuild the barriers that he had been stupid enough to demolish. Unwilling to look at Actor, he concentrated on stripping and cleaning each of their weapons in turn, though he could hear the other man's soft footfalls as he paced the floor of the hotel bedroom – only three of his long strides in each direction.

"It's almost five o'clock," Actor said suddenly, the first time he had spoken since he had turned his back on Garrison hours earlier. "D'you think something's gone wrong?"

When Garrison looked up at him, he saw nothing except the worry of a man who has two colleagues out in the field and isn't sure if he'll ever seen them again. It was the thought that had been in his mind too. "I dunno," he admitted, "but there's nothing we can do about it." He returned his attention to the gun, hearing Actor resume his pacing a few seconds later.

He'd just put the last gun back together and was wondering what else he could do to distract himself when noises in the corridor outside sent Actor to the door at a run. He opened it a crack and peered out, letting in more noise: voices and what, Lord help them, sounded like a piano accordion. Then Actor was signalling frantically for Garrison to come and join him.

Actor had bent low to let him see better. Peering out, Garrison was not too surprised to see Goniff in company with half a dozen women, Casino, and a man with what really was a piano accordion, not to mention far too much Champagne. The only person who didn't appear to be having a great time – and for several hours, at that – was Casino, who was wearing his chauffeur's uniform and a scowl, and carrying a large bag of bread and a couple of unopened bottles of Champagne.

Relief and amusement lifted Garrison's spirits: after all, he had had a great time, too... until it had all gone sour.

Casino collapsed with his burdens on a bench in the corridor, occasioning sympathetic gestures from some of the women, and nothing of the sort from his friend, who started herding the rest of the party through the door into his own room. After a few moments, Casino, realising that he was being left behind, made as if to follow, but Goniff blocked the doorway. 

Garrison couldn't quite hear what was said, but the result was that Goniff exited into his room with the bread and Champagne, and Casino was left outside, with nothing to show for his pains but a fleeting kiss from a tall redheaded girl in a yellow dress, and the door closed firmly between them.

The resulting explosion was predictable. Casino stormed past Actor and Garrison, hurling his cap to one side.

Garrison followed him, leaving Actor to shut the door. "All right, all right, what happened?" he demanded.

"Sir Redmond is having a ball," Casino snarled. "That little Limey's nothing but a miser and I'm not talking about money, either." He strode to the connecting door and pulled open the hatch that concealed the one-way glass. "Here, take a look!" Without so much as a glance himself, he turned away, still smouldering.

Garrison, though, did as he'd suggested, sensing the warmth of Actor's body as he settled beside him. Though the reversed lettering on the other side of the glass obscured the view a little, there was no doubt that Goniff was having a whale of a time. No doubt too, that having been made to play an aristocrat, he was now as drunk as the proverbial Lord.

Instinct made Garrison look at Actor, to catch the other man looking at him, with a twinkle in his eyes that invited Garrison to share the joke – as they always had.

The twinkle began a wide, infectious grin. Garrison found himself grinning back.

Maybe they hadn't lost what really mattered. The rest could be worked out.

Business as usual.

Garrison squeezed Actor's shoulder very briefly, then returned to watching the floor show. Tomorrow, he guessed, wouldn't be half so amusing.

The End


End file.
